It's not the clothespins necessarily, it's the way she removes them.
I don't know what's worse, the pain of the clothespins on my body, the removal of them from my flesh, or the humiliation of knowing that I'm being watched by complete strangers to me.
(in the present tense, forgive me, I'm recalling what happened that night)
I'm standing against the wall, gagged to suppress any sound I might make, and my hands are tied securely behind my back. Immobile by the two leather straps which bound my spread ankles to eyelets on the wall and by my black collar attached to a ceiling rafter, I cannot move an inch. I'm naked, and my periphery is blinded by a clip-on reflective light attached to the makeshift dungeon's rafters, bathing my bound body in incandescent light as a web camera on a tripod is focused directly on me.
Mistress is wearing only a pair of black lace undies as she sits in an overstuffed leather chair about twenty feet from me, her legs tucked under her body as she giggles into her cell phone, balancing her laptop on her tiny lap. She's talking to her friends as she's watching her web camera on the laptop, occasionally looking up to me, her bound playtoy, as she giggles and types into her computer.
There must be twenty wooden clothespins attached to me, and they hurt beyond belief. I grit my teeth against the gag, as the pain is intense. One clothespin each pinches my nipples, the weight of the device only adds to the pain. Five or six more clothespins surround my balls, each digging into the tender flesh of my scrotum along each side of my ballsac. Four more squeeze painfully along the ridge of the tip of my cock, as four or five more pinch into the bottom edge of my shaft. And each clothespin has been modified-each has a little hole on their handles where a string has been threaded, each thread leading back to the leather chair where Mistress reclines, and each string tagged with a little taped number.
I overhear a part of the conversation Mistress is having on her phone, and her words shoot fear through me. "What is it sweetie, you want to watch me pull string nine? Oh you're such a darling, here you go my dear!" Mistress giggles to her friend on the other side of the conversation. And I feel the pain as the clip on my left nipple gets tugged. I want to scream, but the gag suppresses any sound my body fights to make. The pain is intense as the clip digs into the flesh of my nipple, the wood hanging on tight to my tender pink flesh .... and snap! I feel the clip release it's grasp onto me as it falls to the floor. I want to scream from the intense pain, you have no idea.
"Clip two? But of course my dear, I think that one goes to his cock." The words make me break out in a cold sweat as I watch Mistress glance up at me and give an evil smile, her hand reaching out for the string to the requested clothespin. And she pulls the string back, tugging my cock out straight ahead as a clip along the edge of my cock's crown digs into my skin. My eyes widen as I watch my member stretch out forward, Mistress only smiling in delight at the request. And again it stings with an incredible pain, the string is taut, but the clip will not let go of its grip on the tender skin along my cock's tip. The only emotion I can convey is pity, as I bet with my eyes to Mistress to stop pulling on the string. But instead she gives the string a quick tug, and snap! Off goes the clip. I break out in a sweat at the pain, I don't know how much more I can take. And my misery only fuels the desire within Mistress, as throughout the night she tugs on each string one by one as her friends watching her web cam choose which strings to pull, which clothespin will be yanked from my bound body next.
